And, more importantly, Volokh says that public funds are not allowed to be used for a religious purpose. Period.
Richard Katskee, assistant legal director at Americans United for Separation of Church and State, agrees. He says the county's "donations," as I've described them, are illegal.
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"The government is not allowed to use public money to fund religious programming," he says.
The Missionettes are, by definition, religious programming. So is Stephen Baldwin's preaching from the stage in an arena. You could certainly make a better argument for using RICO funds for a "Christ-centered 12-step recovery ministry," like Covenant of Grace offers, but both Katskee and Volokh say that even those expenditures aren't legal.
"Any time you're giving public money to a religious group, there have to be restrictions that bar the use of these funds for religious practice," Volokh says.
So Catholic Charities can get government money to run soup kitchens, as long as they welcome people of all faiths, Katskee says, and don't require them to listen to a sermon in order to get soup. A Christian school can use government funds to pay for an overhead projector for math class, but not one for the religion teacher, Volokh explains.
That sort of separation, clearly, is not happening here. (See: The Missionettes, Stephen Baldwin, et cetera, et cetera.)
This isn't about contributing to proven social service programs. It's about shoring up Thomas' popularity with his political base. The churches benefiting from his largesse house the very people he needs to come out for him in what's sure to be a tight re-election campaign this November. It's Tammany Hall, only tailored to social conservatives instead of uneducated immigrants.
And the donations to Christian churches aren't the only RICO funds Thomas is using to win votes. He's also used RICO bucks in an endless campaign to increase his name recognition.
See those billboards along the road, telling you that Maricopa County Andrew Thomas is going after drunk drivers? RICO bucks paid for those.
See those silly public service spots on TV, in which Maricopa County Andrew Thomas tells you that it's okay to snoop around in your kid's closet? RICO paid for those, too.
Records show that Arizona agencies raked in around $24 million in racketeering seizures last year alone. Thomas' office, as the prosecuting agency in the biggest county in the state, got $12 million of it. While much of that gets distributed to local law enforcement, Thomas' office spent $1.6 million of it. (And, as much as Thomas is spending, Maricopa County is still sitting on a stash of about $12.3 million, according to the Arizona Criminal Justice Commission.)
Some agencies use the money to buy computers, or phone taps, to use in racketeering investigations. Others use it for anti-drug Web sites or commercials. It's up to each agency to spend the money as it sees fit, as long as they follow the Justice Department's broad guidelines.
Thomas' biggest expense has been the aforementioned ad campaigns, which are perfectly legal. But he handles them much differently than his predecessor, Rick Romley, did.
Romley ran his anti-drug ads in cooperation with the Partnership for Drug-Free America — a deal that made sense. The Partnership, which relies on pro bono work from the advertising industry, produces high-quality anti-drug messages — and uses research and statistical analysis to determine which ads are most effective. By using RICO money to buy ad time, Romley's staff ensured that the agency's campaigns were seen on TV screens during peak hours of viewing, not just late-night slots.
But when Thomas took office in 2005, his office's partnership with the Partnership ended.
Rather than buying airtime for the Partnership's ads, records show that Thomas hired Peterson Advertising to produce new spots. That company, which is based in Georgia, specializes in conservative causes. (Literally, its Web site boasts that "Conservative Causes: Our #1 Specialty!")
The agency had previously produced the commercials for Thomas' campaigns for both attorney general and for county attorney, according to his campaign finance reports.
So. Instead of using ads from the Partnership for Drug Free America, ads that would have cost him nothing but airtime, Thomas spent $128,000 in RICO funds to create new ads.
Why?
Partnership ads wouldn't promote Thomas.
In fact, the Partnership bars politicians from appearing in its spots. They're interested in ending drug use, not propping up political careers.
Peterson's RICO-funded ads feature Thomas' face, and his name — ad infinitum.
Leslie Bloom, executive director of the Partnership's Arizona chapter, says that her staff met with Thomas', but Thomas decided to take a different path. "Obviously, I think it's a case where they have their own goals and ideas of what they want to accomplish," she says.
And what is that goal?
Bloom will characterize it, politely, only as a question of "ownership" — as in, "Some people want ownership, and that appears to be the case here."
It's ownership, all right. Thomas' name and face are everywhere.
Earlier this year, after Thomas' office spent more than $215,000 on a silly 45-page crime-prevention booklet, State Representative Jim Waring, R-Phoenix, introduced legislation that would have barred public officials from putting their names on fliers and commercials paid for with public money. It was a good idea; not coincidentally, it never gained much traction.
